


Wash Away (reaching in the dark)

by theonsfavouritetoy



Series: Theon Kink Bingo [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jon Snow is a Gift, M/M, POV Theon Greyjoy, Past Abuse, Theon Greyjoy-centric, Theon Kink Bingo, Title from a Florence + the Machine Song, bites/bruises, mostly bruises, the good kind!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27473038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonsfavouritetoy/pseuds/theonsfavouritetoy
Summary: Theon kink bingo series #6
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Jon Snow
Series: Theon Kink Bingo [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990951
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34
Collections: Theon Greyjoy Kink Bingo





	Wash Away (reaching in the dark)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello! 
> 
> Here's a short ficlet to start the week! 
> 
> kink: bites/bruises
> 
> Set in a universe after GoT (ignoring S08 ofc) where the boys are at peace and together!

When he’s done cleaning every inch of his body, Theon lets the cloth slide back into the water. He does it every morning, thoroughly scrubbing away until all traces from the night are gone… all but the more permanent ones. Slowly he covers the small spots with his fingers, three on the left, four on the right. Three bruises remain uncovered, but that can’t be helped. He presses down on his skin, one finger after the other, relishing the short moment of pain, the dull throbbing under his fingertips, closing his eyes as he recalls how they got there, marvelling at the fact that he didn’t feel any pain at all when they were created. Only bliss, and a longing for Jon to hold on tighter. 

He’d been sitting astride of Jon then, hands scrambling for purchase on his sweat-slicked chest, the muscles in his thighs screaming from the strain of pulling himself up and down on Jon’s cock. And Jon’s hands had been on Theon’s hips, steadying, supporting – bruising. His fingers had been digging into Theon’s sides, deep but not deep enough, not yet, not until Theon had quickened his pace, had rode Jon fast and good, eliciting hoarse cries and delicious moans from him, until it had been too much and Jon’s grip had tightened, impossibly so, as he’d spilled, pulling Theon down on his cock with such force Theon had thought he’d be broken in two, the final push he’d needed himself to release. 

But there hadn’t been pain. There never is when he’s with Jon, only ever afterwards, when Jon is sleeping and Theon lights a candle to clean himself, of Jon’s seed and his own spend, of sweat and the smell of fucking. That’s when it hurts, when he feels sore and exhausted, his muscles aching. Sometimes he can still feel Jon’s hands on him, can feel his fingers digging into his flesh. Those nights are the best, when he can touch himself, can trace Jon’s tracks on him, every little ache a sweet reminder that Jon wants him. 

Theon dries himself carefully before he tilts his head to see if the marks are already darkening. It’s hard to see in the candlelight, but he thinks there might be new bruises forming next to the already fading ones from earlier nights. Theon shrugs into one of the long, heavy shifts he sleeps in. He’s getting tired. On the morrow Jon will wake up early like he always does, will pull Theon close and apologize for being too rough last night. And Theon will assure him he’s completely fine, and Jon will hold him and make the sweetest love to him, gentle and cautious, and Theon will cling to him, will latch onto Jon’s skin and bite down on the soft flesh as Jon takes him deep and slow, will leave a mark of his own. 

And Jon will gasp and spill, will smile sheepishly and mutter something about Theon being a true beast, and then he will walk out to tend to his businesses, all with his collar open and Theon’s mark there for the world to see. No one will ever see the ones on Theon’s skin, not even Jon. They’re his secret, his prize. Often he’ll touch them during the day, seek out the aching spots under his thick clothes, pressing down on them until heat gathers in his belly, until his breath comes harder and he can hardly wait for night to come and give him more. 

Theon blows out the candle and crawls into bed, burying his face in Jon’s hair. Jon grunts in his sleep, rolling over and pawing around until he gets ahold of Theon before his breathing settles again. Theon smiles to himself as he bends forward, nosing at Jon’s neck, his lips seeking out the bruise he’s left there in the morning, placing a gentle kiss on the spot. They have both left their marks on each other countless times now, but every night without fail it makes a low hum of arousal buzz in Theon’s body. Like this he closes his eyes, letting sleep take over. Jon will take care of him in the morning.


End file.
